The blackness seemed to increase, the shadows to thicken about me and grow denser. But one sound broke the awful silence, which sound seemed to have a quality tangible, crushing—the growl of the water in the abysmal depths of the chasm. And even that sound, as I stood there listening, watching, waiting, seemed to change; it seemed to sink to a murmur, then a whisper, as though evil spirits were hushing it to lull my suspicions and even the very senses of me.
What was that? I started, and something shot through my very heart, chilling and sharp as the needle point of an icicle.
Surely I had seen it. Yes! There it was again, dim but unmistakable, there by one of the great columns—a single point of light, an eye staring at me with a greenish fire.
Yes, there it was. Then of a sudden it was gone.
For a time I stood peering and waiting, the blood throbbing in my ears; but it was not seen again.
I turned and looked down the ledge, and I gave an exclamation that was one of relief and joy, for there was Rhodes just come into view around that projection in the wall.
"What," I asked as he drew near, "did you find down there?"
"We can't go down. The shelf is broken—nothing but sheer wall between. So it's across the bridge for us."
"We may never reach the other side."
And then I told him what I had seen.